


Tin Cans and String

by SuburbanSun



Category: Late Night (2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, Phone Calls & Telephones, Set Both During and Post-Canon, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: A love story in phone calls.
Relationships: Molly Patel/Tom Campbell
Comments: 15
Kudos: 60
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Tin Cans and String

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tosca1390](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, tosca1390!

“Hello? Tom?” Molly frowned at the silence on the other end of the line, and toed her heels off underneath her desk. It was late, but she’d still figured he’d answer.

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“It’s Molly. Patel? From work? _Tonight with Katherine Newbury_?” She could hear noisy street sounds through the phone, and imagined him walking down the sidewalk in some trendy neighborhood, surely on the way to some cool comedy club or fancy schmancy late-night dinner with his Harvard frat bros. 

“Uh, yeah, I know where we work,” he answered dryly. “How’d you get this number?”

“Um, Brad gave me a sheet when I started that had everyone’s contact information. Numbers, emails, all that.”

“Dammit, Brad,” Tom muttered. “I knew I shoulda given him a fake number.”

Molly furrowed her brow, feeling simultaneously hesitant and frustrated. If he didn’t want to talk to her, he hadn’t _had_ to pick up. “Is this a bad time?”

“Ah—” He grumbled into the phone, then huffed out a sigh. “No, guess not. What’s up?”

She shuffled the stack of papers on the desk in front of her, flipping over the top page. “I had a few joke ideas for the monologue tomorrow that I wanted to run by you. If that’s okay.”

“You wrote jokes for _tomorrow’s_ monologue. At… 11 o’clock tonight.” 

Molly shrugged, smiling. “Just the perks of having no social life, I guess. Early bird gets the laughs!” 

“Well, actually I think those _laughs_ come from a combination of timing and specificity rather than punctuality,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. How did he manage to pack so much pretension into one sentence? “But what the hell. Hit me.” 

Beaming, she put the phone on speaker and set it on the desk before beginning to walk him through her jokes. 

He laughed twice, and she considered that a win.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“She said _what_?” Tom’s voice was incredulous, but it was cold comfort to Molly as she pulled the crocheted throw blanket tighter around her. She was glad her aunt and uncle weren’t home to see her curled up on their sofa like some kind of depressed, unemployed burrito.

“Yep. She fired me.” Molly let her head fall back to the wall behind her, wincing as she knocked a framed photo of her grandmother out of place. “And I’m sorry, I know you probably don’t care, but I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m impressed you stood up to her. I didn’t have the balls to do that, but you did.” He chuckled. “Sorry— ovaries?” 

She let out a long exhale, trying not to let herself wonder how she was going to afford to pay her bills. Trying not to think about how her career in comedy had lasted barely two months, how she doubted anyone at the show would even write her a letter of recommendation. When she didn’t say anything for a solid minute, Tom sighed into the phone.

“Look— gimme your address. I’m coming over, and we’re gonna sort this out.” 

She wanted to say no, because that was crazy— they weren’t even friends, really— but if she was honest with herself, she didn’t feel like being alone. She recited the address to her aunt and uncle’s place, and he grunted.

“Ugh, Queens.” 

“You don’t have to—

“It’s fine. Be there in forty.”   
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“What says ‘Happy First Day Back After Being Unfairly Fired,’” he asked. “A coffee or a cake pop? I’m at the place around the corner, and I’m almost at the counter, so make it snappy.”

Molly looked down at the phone set to speaker on her desk— the same one she’d cleaned out so recently, now all hers again— as if he’d said something deranged. “Why would the answer _ever_ not be both?”

Tom laughed. “Both it is.”   
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Remind me: extra peanut sauce or no peanut sauce?” Tom asked without a greeting when she picked up the phone. 

Molly gasped. “How could you even ask me that? I thought you knew me at least a _little_ by now.” 

“Relax,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I asked them for your extra sauce. They’re just taking forever, and I got tired of scrolling Twitter while I waited. Figured I’d bug you instead.” 

She went back to the crossword she’d been filling in— it helped clear her brain when the jokes weren’t flowing, a habit she’d picked up from Burditt. “Are you still in a Twitter war with the skinny guy from Kimmel?”

He scoffed. “Please, I won that one.”

“There are _no_ winners in a Twitter war, Tom.”

“There are the way I do it.” 

“You’re such a nerd, you know that, right?” Molly neatly printed the word ‘O-A-R’ in the boxes for 11-across, a smile on her face. “So when you get back with the food, are you thinking monologue first, then go through the pitches for next week?”

“Actually… I thought…”

When he didn’t continue, Molly put down her pen. “Tom? Is there a problem with the food?” Her eyes widened. “Did they run out of peanut sauce?”

“What? No. I was just going to suggest that maybe when I come back with the food, we could… I don’t know, sneak up to the stage and eat there. Like a picnic, or something. Is that stupid?”

Was that stupid? It was only Molly’s dream picnic location. “So you want to go through the pitches there? I can bring my laptop.” 

“I meant, like, a non-working dinner.” He cleared his throat. “Where we could just talk, and eat.”

Molly blinked. That almost sounded like a— 

“Like, I don’t know, a date, sorta,” Tom continued. “Oh— hang on, I think the food’s ready, let me just—” She heard shuffling for a moment, heard the familiar crinkle of a thick brown paper bag, heard him say thank you, heard the trill of the little bell that hung above the door to the Thai place, heard the honking horns and and street sounds that meant he was headed back. She pressed the phone a little closer to her ear. “Molly?”

“Yes!”

He paused. “Yes, as in, you’re there? Or yes, as in, you want to go on a date with me?” 

She grinned. “Yes, as in, let’s have a picnic.”

The studio was barely lit, and they spread out their cartons of noodles on the wooden boards of the stage, sitting cross-legged and passing a bottle of wine Tom had popped into a store around the corner to get between them. It was, weirdly, the most romantic date Molly had ever been on.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Molly smirked down at the phone in her hand at the sight of Tom’s name on the screen, at the disgruntled scowl on his face in the photo she’d set to pop up whenever he called. “I was just in your bed half an hour ago; you can’t possibly miss me yet.” 

“Good thing I didn’t have you on speaker,” he muttered before clearing his throat, then louder, said, “Katherine wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh— what—”

Before Molly could finish her thought, she heard Katherine’s crisp accent on the line. “Let me get this straight—you earn a promotion and suddenly you don’t have to show up to work on time, is that it?”

“Uh— Katherine, I’m sorry. I’m on my way in now. I can literally see the building from here.” Molly sped up her pace, rushing toward the stately building ahead. “I was just running behind this morning, because—”

“Things may operate a bit differently around here than they did before, but that doesn’t mean I care to hear about the intricacies of your day,” Katherine quipped. “Just get here. The Lizzo segment for today’s show needs work, and I also need you to explain to me who _Lizzo_ is.” 

“Sorry, Katherine, I’m walking in the door now, I swear.”

“It’s me again,” came Tom’s voice. 

Molly frowned, flashing her badge and a routine wave at Carl, her favorite security guard. She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “Is she mad?” 

“Katherine? Nah. Just play her a little ‘Truth Hurts’ and she’ll understand.” 

“I’m about to get on the elevator now. And this is your fault, by the way.”

“My fault? How is that possible?” 

Molly rolled her eyes as she pressed the ‘Up’ button again impatiently. “I was at your place, so it’s your fault. You should’ve let me leave first.” 

“Staggering our in-times was your idea, remember?” He didn’t sound annoyed, exactly, but there was a tension in his voice. She heard a door click shut, and imagined he’d taken the phone into his office. “You didn’t want it to look like you were sleeping with somebody to get ahead at work— which I totally get, by the way—”

The elevator doors opened, and Molly stormed into the car, grateful when no one joined her before the doors slid closed. “Because I’m not! I got this promotion before you and I ever started anything. But because I’m a woman, you _know_ what it would look like.” 

“I know, I know. I get it. And it’s not fair, and I want it to be abundantly clear that you earned your spot here.”

Molly watched the numbers on the screen above the elevator doors tick upward. “Good. I did.”

“I know you did,” he said with a soft sigh. Then, after a beat: “You know… there is one thing we could do to clear the air, make sure everything is above board.” 

She was only a few floors away now. “What’s that?”

“We could…” he said, drawing out the words. “Go to HR? Make it official?”

“Official.” 

“Yeah. I mean, wouldn’t it be easier if we could just walk into work together in the mornings? Stop sneaking around?” 

The elevator doors slid open on their floor, and Molly frowned. “You want to go to HR because it’ll be easier?” She walked in the direction of his office, until she could see him in profile through the glass window, cradling the phone to his ear.

He shook his head, though he didn’t realize she could see him. “That’s just a handy side effect. I want to go to HR because I want to be able to be with you. Out in the open. Everywhere.” 

Molly had reached his office, but he hadn’t noticed her yet, and she took a moment to appreciate the soft smile on his face. When they were together, not always, but sometimes, all the comedy-guy edge and pretension disappeared, and she was left with this sweet, funny, smart guy who she’d realized she liked a lot. Maybe more than liked. Grinning, she rapped her knuckles on his office window to get his attention, and he turned to her, phone still pressed to his ear. 

“So? What do you think?” he asked hopefully. 

“I think… let’s do it. HR, here we come!” she said into the phone. He smiled back, biting his lip and nodding. 

“So… 4th floor? Want to go down now, or—” 

“Good god, did you stop for a leisurely brunch?” Katherine stepped out into the corridor and rested a hand on her hip, staring Molly down. “We do still have a show to make, don’t we, Molly?” 

“Yep. Be right in,” Molly answered, then turned apologetically back to Tom. “After?” 

“I’ll be here.” He gave her a reassuring nod before hanging up, and she slipped her phone back into her purse, then followed Katherine down the hall.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Let me guess,” Tom said when he picked up the phone. “You’re either calling to tell me you’re grabbing us burgers on the way home, or that you want to go to Ralph’s for the good pizza so I should wait to eat.” 

“Not everything is about food, Tom,” she answered, digging in her desk drawer for a fresh legal pad. When he didn’t respond, she could picture the doubtful look he’d be giving her if he were there. “Okay, yes, I want the good pizza from Ralph’s so don’t fill up on microwave junk at home.” 

“On it.” 

“But that’s not why I’m calling.” She tucked her phone between her shoulder and ear so she could use both hands to shut her laptop and unplug it. “Katherine asked me for help with something, so I’m going to be a little later than I thought.” 

“Help with what? We finished the scripts for Friday.” 

“Exactly,” Molly said, straightening up with everything in her arms. “This is for Saturday.” 

“Wait—"

Molly couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “Yep.”

“She wants you to—”

“Yes! She asked me to help write her vows for her and Walter’s vow renewal ceremony.” It wasn’t the type of writing she’d spent her whole life dreaming of doing; it almost felt better. She was honored that Katherine trusted her enough to ask for help.

“Wow,” Tom breathed. “You know, if you need anyone to help punch it up after…”

Molly rolled her eyes, and headed down the hall. It was late, and the office was nearly empty. “I think between me and the multiple-Emmy Award-winning comedienne, we can handle it.” 

He laughed. “Yeah, you’ve got this. Good luck, babe. Don’t stay too late, or Ralph’s’ll be closed.” 

“I’ll text you if we need to get it delivered instead.” She paused at the door to Katherine’s office, and once Katherine looked up, she waved her in. 

“Okay,” he said. “And hey, look at is this way— this’ll be good practice.” 

Molly set her laptop down on the edge of the desk, then let her gaze drift to the diamond that sparkled from the ring finger of her left hand. She smiled, holding the phone a little closer. “Yeah," she said softly. "It will be.” 


End file.
